


Boy in Red

by mistayas



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Canon Compliant, M/M, One Shot, Pining Younghoon, oblivious juyeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistayas/pseuds/mistayas
Summary: Younghoon's a little too quick to judge his roommate’s newly dyed, red hair - a decision Juyeon soon makes him regret.
Relationships: Kim Younghoon/Lee Juyeon (The Boyz)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Boy in Red

Younghoon’s not quite sure of the moment he first started having feelings for his roommate. It’s caught somewhere between Juyeon’s sheer determination and new-found competitiveness during Road to Kingdom, and the unexpected, inescapable sex appeal oozing off of him during every dance practice they have for _The Stealer_. 

Sure, the company had always pushed Juyeon as the “sexy one” of the group but maybe this was the first era Younghoon had witnessed him wholeheartedly and 100% own it.

And fuck, did he own it.

Who would have known shaving the sides of his head and stuffing him into sleeveless shirts was the perfect little nudge Juyeon had always needed to act so unashamedly bold at any opportunity he got? And every time he did _that_ move in _The Stealer_ \- you know, the crotch grabbing one with his parted lips and the slight smirk - well, Younghoon found himself unable to watch and yet trying desperately to commit each of those brazen movements to memory all at once.

But the whole thing didn’t seem too significant. Juyeon is, objectively, attractive. And he tries to be. If anything, Younghoon’s only reacting the way people should. 

Though the one thing he's sure of? The painstakingly embarrassing moment Chanhee stumbles upon his apparently not so subtle crush.

After his injury in the summer, Younghoon still tried to be at the _Checkmate_ practices as much as possible despite _Love Revolution_ starting production and him, much to his frustration, only having to do the almost bare minimum on stage. As it turns out, however, Younghoon standing around was a wonderfully perfect opportunity to simply gawk at Juyeon uninterrupted to his silly heart’s content.

He had only stopped at Chanhee’s biting hiss in his ear: “Seriously, hyung. You’re going to have to quit staring.” Younghoon hadn’t noticed his group member sidling up beside him, nor the fact Chanhee had been glaring daggers at him the entire time. Was he really that obvious?

“What do you mean?” Younghoon muttered.

“You’ve been watching him non-stop the past week.”

He supposed neither of them needed to vocalise who the _he_ in question was. 

“Well, aren’t we meant to watch each other’s performances? Help each other improve?”

It was a particularly feeble excuse but the scathing look Chanhee had fixed him with, one delicate eyebrow raised to accompany it, still stung. “He’s your roommate, Younghoon-hyung.”

“Oh, really?” Younghoon rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I didn’t know.”

Chanhee didn’t back down. Maybe some members were a little closer than others but it didn’t usually span between roommates. At least it shouldn’t.

“It’s nothing, Chanhee.” Younghoon had eventually sighed. “He’s just been looking really good lately. I don’t know. Whatever _it_ is, it’ll pass.”

* * *

Ok, so it’s been a fair few months and the giddy, fuzzy butterflies Younghoon felt around Juyeon still haven’t quite inevitably fizzled out like he’d anticipated. 

But it was nothing he couldn’t deal with. 

In fact, he hadn’t really thought about Juyeon today at all - no more than a normal roommate would. Even when Juyeon had complimented Younghoon on his dancing during the final practice for their FanCon tomorrow, pushing sweaty black hair off of his forehead, Younghoon had said thank you, patted Juyeon’s arm and managed to shove the whole thing inconsequentially to the back of his mind.

Now as he enters the dorms, nudging his shoes off in the porch and heading towards his bedroom, he feels a dim pride at himself over the whole thing.

Opening the door, Younghoon is pleasantly surprised to find the room deserted, having fully expected Juyeon to be reclined on his bed catching up on one of his shows. Maybe there's a late gym session he wasn’t aware of.

He takes the opportunity to completely relax; leisurely wiping off the day’s makeup, undressing into comfy clothes, playing music on full volume.

His mind is so far away and he’s in the midst of mindlessly singing along to a song with the absent swaying of his hips when the door suddenly, and in full force, swings open.

“Where did I…” Juyeon peers inside before his eyes lock onto Younghoon’s. “Oh hey, hyung. Didn’t know you were back.”

It’s like a bomb hits. Younghoon finds himself frozen to the spot and he imagines his eyes must be bulging out his skull. Juyeon hovers in the doorway, hair newly dyed a deep, cherry red and shining vivid against his copper skin. The sheer surprise and unfamiliarity of the change knocks the breath out of Younghoon, his heart clenching almost painfully.

“Your hair…” He croaks.

“Oh yeah! Do you like it?” Juyeon lights up their shared room with one of his signature, toothy wide grins. If he were a cat, Younghoon imagines he would surely be purring right now - clearly quite smug about his striking, new look. But Younghoon’s shocked expression and the fact he hasn’t said… well, anything, suddenly hits home. Juyeon’s smile falters. “Do you not?”

Worry begins to cloud Juyeon’s bright, innocent face and the nervousness in his voice pulls Younghoon sharply back to reality. “No! No, I do! It’s just… different. Sorry, I think I was shocked.”

“Do you think people will like it?” Juyeon steps further into the room and Younghoon notices him tug the door closed slightly, wanting to keep the conversation private.

As Younghoon turns away to switch off his laptop, trying to busy himself before speaking, he thinks of how Juyeon has often relied a little too much on the approval of the other members. Is he frustrated by it or flustered? Sweet, sweet boy. “Of course. Everyone always goes mad for change, don’t they?” 

Younghoon, now seemingly fixated on tidying up his clothes, doesn’t see Juyeon frown as he senses this wasn’t exactly the compliment he had been hoping for. “But do you really like it?” He reiterates, tentatively.

Suppressing a sigh, Younghoon convinces himself to pull it together and look at his roommate. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure; it was definitely a shock when he had been used to a natural - and if not natural then at least a deep, inky blue - dark colour the whole year. It was… _bright_. Jarring? No, that wasn’t the right word. He decides he doesn't know. Either way, Juyeon always looks good and besides, Younghoon definitely doesn’t have the heart right now to even hint otherwise. “I do,” he says gently. “You look really cool.”

Juyeon’s shoulders sink in relief at Younghoon’s response and his pleased smile swiftly returns. “Yeah? Thanks, hyung. Ok anyway, I forgot my card.” He leans across to their joint desk, picking up his credit card nestled between various scattered cotton pads, makeup palettes and cleansers. “Heading back to the company with Jacob. Need anything whilst I’m out?”

Younghoon shakes his head furiously. So much for having a relatively good day; now his heart is thrumming a mile a minute and he isn’t sure if it’s Juyeon’s presence or the tangible awkwardness of their conversation. “No, thanks.”

Still shining bright with the glow of praise, Juyeon heads back out and shuts the door quietly behind him. Once certain he’s far enough away, Younghoon firmly presses the palms of his hands to his eyes and lets out a groan of both frustration and relief that feels like a total outpouring of all the thoughts swimming erratically inside his head.

His stupid surprise and whatever these _feelings_ happen to be are getting the better of him. He can’t even relive that conversation without wanting to evaporate. How hard is it to act like a normal human being, Younghoon, for fuck’s sake? 

But the one saving grace, Younghoon decides, is that he really doesn’t think he’s enamoured with the hair. (Sorry, Juyeon). And so he supposes, of all the times to get over a crush, now would be an ideal time to start. After all, you can’t gape non-stop over a man or imagine him in all sorts of compromising positions whilst he sleeps barely a metre away from you if you don’t like the colour of his hair, right?

Right?

* * *

Standing face to face with Juyeon in their crowded dressing room, both donned in shining black suits and slicked, perfectly styled hair… Younghoon realises he was wrong. Fucking hell he was _laughably_ wrong.

The air feels smothering, and not just because it’s filled with ten other half-dressed, skittishly nervous men surrounded by their stressed and decidedly manic staff members.

Juyeon looks good, even in the unflattering overhead lighting. The kind of good that makes you near visibly angry at the thought of the person possessing it being entirely unattainable. That reaches in between your ribs to squeeze unpleasantly at your heart. The kind that laughs in your face as a blaring reminder that your feelings are not going anywhere. In fact, they’re here to stay.

Younghoon has to remind himself to get it together. They’re less than an hour away from the start of their FanCon - a three hour performance, if not more - and he can’t be distracted by one of his members because surely he’s better than that.

But even on stage during the Film Festival awards all he can think of is _of course_ he’s sat next to Juyeon because when is he ever not next to Juyeon at events? This whole Bermuda triangle line coming back to bite him in the ass: “visuals you get lost in.” How ironic. And just to make all things worse, he and Juyeon are sitting right in front of the camera, directly in view at nearly all times. 

So even though Juyeon puts on the perfect show - pouting at just the right moments, expertly making them all laugh, kicking up a fuss after being snubbed at the awards, being oh so sweetly humble when he eventually does win - Younghoon has to appear visibly composed, visibly pristine and professional the entire time.

Which he does, obviously. Because he’s an idol and this is what he does best. He can, just about, ignore the niggle prodding relentlessly at his brain just as he can ignore the heat radiating off of Juyeon beside him.

* * *

About two thirds of the way through, Younghoon is finally able to convince himself to get a grip and everything passes by almost seamlessly after that.

Even now, as they’re swiftly rushed backstage to change for the actual performances, Younghoon’s thoughts are nearly single-mindedly focused on the routines ahead.

That is until he sees Juyeon’s outfit and suddenly Younghoon is attempting valiantly to look at anything except the bronze of his tight arms, the sheen of sweat already clinging to the skin glowing in hues of tawny gold. But where else is there to look? His obnoxiously tight pants? The black harness slung casually over the even blacker short-sleeved shirt that cinches just a little too tightly round a waist Younghoon could possibly near wrap his hands round? How about deep red hair that just yesterday Younghoon was too quickly dismissive of but now regards as set beautifully in contrast against the tan of his skin? 

No. Younghoon admits defeat. Perhaps staring at Juyeon’s toned arms is, in fact, the better option and his fleeting single-minded focus fades away at a shameful velocity.

“Hyung?”

Younghoon looks up with wide, blinking eyes, dumbfounded and broken out of his reverie. He’s met with Juyeon’s bright face, eyes crinkled into delightful crescents. This nervous giddiness smiling back at him is such a harsh juxtaposition to the way Juyeon is presented, ready for the stage, and the whiplash leaves Younghoon breathless. _The fucker._

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you ready?”

Only now does Younghoon notice the other nine members standing, quite literally, all around him. They had been seconds away from their usual group chant before Younghoon found the oh so convenient time to drift off into the absolutely not so convenient thoughts about his own roommate. Everyone stares blankly at him; everyone except Chanhee, instead smirking knowingly as the tip of his tongue swipes slowly across his teeth.

Narrowing his dark eyes, Younghoon hopes the cutting expression on his face is enough to convey what he’s thinking without words. _Shut the fuck up, Chanhee._

“I’m ready,” he finally responds, composing himself.

With that, Juyeon extends a large, leather-gloved hand into the circle of the members’ outstretched arms. Younghoon follows suit, holding his breath the moment his fingers graze across Juyeon’s. Like a jolt of electricity, skin on clammy skin, Younghoon suddenly and silently thanks the stylists for clothing him in a polo neck and long sleeves, now masking the swathes of goosebumps erupting across his shaking body.

“The Boyz, Get It?” Kevin’s voice drifts towards him, pushing through the haziness of his thoughts. 

“Got It!” 

Younghoon’s shout joins the cacophony of ten other excited voices and he hopes he sounds steadier than he feels.

* * *

Ok, for real now. Younghoon doesn’t have time to think of Juyeon as he’s whisked off stage and uncomfortably shoved into yet another outfit at a slightly painful speed, mentally preparing for his and Hyunjae’s duet.

The group is scattered - everyone either getting changed or already prepared for their solo stages, bouncing nervously on their feet. Younghoon’s mind is fogged with the lyrics for _HeeJae_ and as he mutters along to the words, he really doesn’t have room to concentrate on anything else except—

“Guys, look at Juyeon!” Oh, shit. What now? Haknyeon is standing next to the screen monitors they have dotted around backstage and he’s beckoning excitedly for anyone available to gather round. The lights are currently off, but Younghoon knows Juyeon’s performance is first…

No, he really can’t.

“Quick, come on!”

He can’t…

“He’s going to be so good.”

He…

Younghoon finds himself standing between Sunwoo and Hyunjae, gnawing at his bottom lip as his eyes fixate, almost nervously, at the stage on screen that abruptly lights up in a glowing, jaw-dropping red. And then the only thing he can see is red. Red, red, _red_. 

The penetrating notes of the eighties-esque intro to the Weeknd’s _In Your Eyes_ sounds shrill in Younghoon’s ears, a song he has become familiar with thanks to Juyeon playing it a little too often in their room. He’s seen the routine, of course, but only once on the day it was released - phone clutched in his slick palms as a blinding spotlight, cascades of shimmering gems and the quick shine of leather had pierced him so harshly and choked the breath right out of him. Younghoon had immediately taken a cold shower after that and spent the rest of the night lying awake, squirming at each sleeping stir and murmur that sounded from right beside him.

Much like that time, Younghoon can’t tear his gaze away from the figure now centre-stage, crimson suit and matching hair illuminated by the lights trained onto him. Lips parted in an exhalation that can’t quite escape, the divine fluidity of Juyeon’s movements stagger Younghoon and the scorching image of his ardent expressions, the beat of his hips, the sheer musicality and depth of feeling he can somehow always _always_ channel is everything Younghoon remembers and more. For the entirety of the two minutes, Younghoon is enrapt and the power behind each move is a punch to the gut. Juyeon is doing everything perfectly to make anyone watching fall desperately in complete awe, and dare he say it, _want_ of him.

And one glaringly obvious realisation, how could Younghoon have ever doubted the hair?

As the lights fade to black around Juyeon, Younghoon doesn’t even register when he comes striding back towards them, breathless and elated and high off the adrenaline of his dance. Instead, Younghoon’s head is still on that stage, back with the man strewn in red.

* * *

The rest of the concert passed by in a whirlwind of heartwarming loveliness, overwhelming emotion and, sadly, embarrassment that actually had nothing to do with Juyeon and everything to do with Younghoon crying at the end because he missed being in front of the fans. God, 2020 had been a bit of a shit year, hadn’t it?

Still, sobbing on stage unable to speak with Juyeon giggling beside him as he hands over tissues wasn’t exactly the sparkling, ‘please tell me you also have a big, fat, debilitating crush on me too’ image he was aiming to portray.

As much as the members were their usual sweet, albeit good-humoured teasing, unbothered selves, Younghoon can feel the tips of ears staining red just thinking about it. Collapsing back dramatically on his bed, he wonders at all the quips he’ll receive the next morning after everyone’s had a night’s sleep to rehearse them.

“Feeling better, hyung?” chimes Juyeon. 

Not even realising he was there, Younghoon tilts his head back to look up at his roommate with a surprised pout. “I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t stop crying.”

“I know.” Juyeon grins, and the blush spreads to the entirety of Younghoon’s face.

“I reckon it’s because they showed that video of me crying earlier. It jinxed it.” The mounting shame is becoming all too much and Younghoon, already in his pyjamas, buries himself under the covers in an attempt to hide himself away with his back turned to Juyeon. 

Juyeon laughs loudly, that boyish chuckle making Younghoon’s heart flutter. “You’re so cute,” he croons.

“Yah, stop,” Younghoon mumbles, embarrassed. “Anyway, hurry up and turn the lights off. Big day tomorrow.”

Juyeon makes a small noise of confirmation in the back of his throat and Younghoon can hear him rummaging about the room performing the usual nightly routine. Tomorrow is MAMA and the Kingdom announcement combined - an event with an even greater need to focus. No distractions, Younghoon. Especially not Juyeon in a sheer, jewel encrusted shirt and a cape sitting in a throne and… _fuck_. He tries not to turn back round, but he can hear Juyeon changing out of his clothes and imagines the sweatpants slung low over his hips, the tanned skin taut as he slips into one of his old t-shirts. 

“You did really well tonight.” Younghoon just about manages to choke out the compliment. It was a vain attempt to distract himself from picturing half-naked Juyeon (who he’s literally seen countless times, why is he fucking acting like this?) but he doesn’t think the stammer in his voice is doing him any favours. 

Luckily, Juyeon doesn’t seem to notice. “Thanks, hyung.” He begins to make his way round the bed towards the other, bare feet lightly padding across the floor, and Younghoon tenses up at the expectation of what’s about to happen. Suddenly, a large hand comes to rest on the top of his arm, the skin warm and calloused, and Younghoon audibly sucks in his next breath. “You did, too. Promise,” Juyeon says with a gentle squeeze.

And with that, the hand is gone. As is his warmth, but the heat inside Younghoon lingers. 

“Night, hyung.”

The light flicks off and Younghoon closes his eyes tight against the knowledge that _oh, he’s got it so bad_. Got it so bad for his roommate and that ridiculously, _ridiculously_ beautiful red hair.

**Author's Note:**

> So I understand that the actual filming/performing of The Boyz' FanCon/MAMA will not accurately coincide with this fic's timeline but let's just say, for my sake haha, that it does!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
